


i don't want to ever dream

by krystian



Series: Unfamiliar Cadence [7]
Category: Code Vein (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, First Kiss, Gender-Neutral Protagonist (Code Vein), Heirs | Bad Ending (Code Vein), Multi, Non-Explicit Sex, Other, POV Second Person, Past Character Death, Self-Hatred, Spoilers, man i feel really bad for oliver the poor guy just keeps dying, there's humor at the beginning but it gets sad really fast
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:35:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28361781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krystian/pseuds/krystian
Summary: Louis nods. “So you can absorb Blood Codes through Vestiges. Any other way?”“I don’t know, I’ve never tried before.”He nods again. “I would assume you could also absorb them by blood. But-” A barely noticeable shadow hushes across his face, but you’re good at picking up the small details.“But what?” you ask.“Is that safe? For you, I mean. What if you frenzy? We can’t take that risk if we’re not fully aware of the consequences.”orit’s normal Code Vein but Louis is worried that you'll frenzy if you absorb the others' Blood Codes
Relationships: Louis/Protagonist (Code Vein)
Series: Unfamiliar Cadence [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1668760
Comments: 2
Kudos: 32





	i don't want to ever dream

**Author's Note:**

> I just thought the way they normally give you their blood codes is boring so I spiced things up, youre welcome x 
> 
> it's been a while since I've been active in this fandom, but I just replayed the game three fucking times for the platinum trophy (which was a pain in the ass to get) but hey. here i am. i still have a lot of feelings for these characters, so uh. sorry xx
> 
> title is taken from mother falcon's [Alligator Teeth](https://youtu.be/CC_vx3TUeik) which is a really good song ok.

“Highly fascinating,” Louis mutters next to you. The soft tips of his fingers are digging into the skin of your forearm; it’s not painful, but the proximity does make you a little nervous if you’re being honest. You don’t say anything.

“An anomaly,” he breathes out, tracing the blueish veins that shine through your skin. “This is- I don’t-”

He seems to be at a loss for words; you haven’t known him for very long _(barely a few days, if even that)_ but he doesn’t look like the type of revenant to be starstruck like that. You raise your eyebrows in an unspoken question. 

“I mean, I’ve never seen this before,” he adds after a few beats of total silence. The look in his eyes is unreadable. Maybe you just don’t know him well enough. “A revenant that can restore bloodsprings and revive mistles. That seemed impossible, at least until you showed up.”

When you look up, he’s staring out the window, gnawing on his lower lip. There’s a faraway look in his eyes. “You might be our only hope. Do you perchance know what else you can do?” He sounds excited, like a little kid on Christmas Eve, his visible eye shining with hope that you don’t want to diminish.

You smile involuntarily, even though your voice is hoarse when you speak. “I don’t know the extent of my powers,” you answer, shaking your head slightly. “But I- well, I’m not sure if this is normal among revenants, but I have more than one Blood Code.”

Louis’ eye widens imperceptibly. “You have- how?”

Shrugging, you let your gaze wander through the chapel. Yakumo is talking to the girl – her name is Rin, you recall – at the counter, Io is resting on her makeshift bed. Louis is sitting across from you. “I just can. Judging by your reaction, I assume it’s not normal, then?”

He shakes his head, running his fingers through his hair before grabbing the small notebook that had been resting in his lap until now and scribbling something in. “No, not at all.” He frowns slightly. “When you picked up that Vestige, the boy’s-”

“Oliver’s,” you chime in, and his name sends shivers down your spine.

“Right, when you picked up the Vestige Oliver left behind,” Louis continues slowly, watching your reaction, “did you absorb his Blood Code as well?”

You only need to think for a second, recalling the pain that had surged through your veins liked poisoned blood. “Yes.”

Louis nods, as if he’d expected that answer. “So you can absorb Blood Codes through Vestiges. Any other way?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never tried before.”

He nods again. “I would assume you could also absorb them by blood. But-” A barely noticeable shadow hushes across his face, but you’re good at picking up the small details, changes in scenery. It’s probably what kept you alive for this long.

“But what?” you ask.

“Is that safe? For you, I mean. What if you frenzy?” You don’t know if he’s concerned about losing you as a person or you as an asset, but you assume it’s the latter. “We can’t take that risk if we’re not fully aware of the consequences.”

You smile. “It’s not like we have a choice, do we? We either take the risk or we all die sooner or later.” It’s not like you want to throw your life away; you merely don’t care what happens to you. Nothing could be worse than spending an eternity like this, always depending on the blood of other people or blood beads that get rarer and rarer with each passing day.

Louis’ voice pulls you out of your reverie. “I know,” he says, dragging his hand across his face and sighing. “I know. But we don’t have to rush anything. Can you promise me not to absorb any more Blood Codes until we know what effects it will have on you?” He looks at you almost pleadingly. You avert your eyes.

You don’t owe him anything. You don’t have to agree.

But then your gaze wanders to Io, small and frail as she is, sitting on the mattress, white on white. You sigh as well. “Sure,” you agree amicably, ignoring the way he breathes out in relief.

“Thank you,” he murmurs back, as if he actually has anything to thank you for.

* * *

You’ve kept your promise to Louis more or less; you hadn’t _willingly_ absorbed anyone’s Blood Code, but that doesn’t mean anything.

The others surely know of your powers by now, but if they do, they don’t say anything. At least not to your face, and certainly not when Louis is around. It seems to be a taboo topic around here.

It’s only by accident _(you don’t believe in accidents)_ that Io catches you one evening, her confused gaze following you all around the chapel, quietly asking you to spend some time with her. She doesn’t need to speak in order for you to understand what she wants to say. The mattress dips under your weight as you sit down beside her. “What’s wrong, Io?” you whisper; it’s late at night, the others might be sleeping already.

“You’ve been struggling in battle lately,” Io says with that calming voice of hers. How she knows that when she isn’t even on the battlefield herself is beyond your knowledge. “I just thought- that maybe, if I gave you my Blood Code, it might help.” Io sounds so earnest, so open, and your heart swells with something akin to pride.

Smiling at her, you bump your shoulder against hers, watching the stars twinkle through the clouds, shining in all their glory. “I promised Louis I wouldn’t,” you say, although both of you know you don’t really mean it. You’ve never been one to follow the rules.

Beside you, Io tilts her head, as if listening to a faraway melody that’s only audible to her. “Incertitude of what is to come shouldn’t hold us back from fulfilling our duties.”

You have to agree with her on that. Neither of you actually know what your ‘duties’ are, but she is right nevertheless. And as bad as it feels to go behind Louis’ back, it has to be done. For all of mankind; or rather what’s left of it. “So how do we do it?” you ask Io, remembering Louis’ assumption that you could also absorb Blood Codes through, well, drinking blood.

Io’s face is drenched in shadows as she takes your hand, her soft fingers resting against your calloused ones. “By exchanging blood in an act of intimacy.”

You raise an eyebrow at her. “We have to _sleep_ together?”

She chuckles quietly, turning her face towards you. “No. Any act of intimacy – whether it is platonic or romantic – will suffice. It is your choice, and yours alone.” But it isn’t. It’s as much your choice as it is hers.

So you simply lift her hand to your lips, pressing a soft kiss to each knuckle before turning it over and letting your fingers run across her palm. “Is this alright?” you ask her quietly, inching closer. 

Her eyes shine warmly as she looks down at you, her other hand coming up to caress your face, pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. “You could never do anything wrong.”

Your breath hitches in your throat and you have to avert your eyes. Io is so clueless it hurts.

“Sometimes I wonder how you know so much about me when I don’t even know who I am.” Without further ado, you lower your head, your lips grazing her soft palm, fangs barely piercing the skin. You can feel her pulse thrumming underneath her skin. Her blood is warm and slightly salty, and you ignore the copper taste on your tongue in favour of focusing on the way she runs her fingers through your hair.

A strange energy surges through your body, settling down somewhere near your heart. 

You don’t question it, pushing it to the back of your head instead.

You can deal with the consequences later.

* * *

The morning light paints your room in shades of gold and amber.

You dress yourself, opening the door to leave your room. The hallway is empty, wooden floorboards creaking under your feet.

Louis is already sitting on the couch, a book on his lap. He shortly looks up at you with a smile when you enter the main area but doesn’t try to make conversation. You’re grateful for that.

The coffee is still scalding hot when you pour yourself a cup, settling down on the couch across from him and watching the light catch in the stained-glass windows. It’s silent for a few minutes, only the rustling of paper whenever Louis turns a page and your fingernails tapping against the ceramic mug.

Louis is the first one to break the silence. “How are you feeling today?” he asks. “Any sign of frenzy?” He doesn’t look like he suspects anything, which is good.

“No, I’m fine,” you answer truthfully, sinking deeper into the soft couch cushions. The strange sensation from yesterday is almost gone now, only an echo of it left, reverberating in your ribcage.

“That’s good, then.” He smiles at you again, but you can’t reciprocate the sentiment. “I’m glad you’re doing okay. Are you up for some tests later?”

“Of course.”

Louis only means well.

You know that.

* * *

Louis still doesn’t know yet, and you desperately want to keep it that way.

Not because he sometimes smiles at you like you’re the sun or because he keeps you company late at night when you can’t sleep because Oliver’s screams follow you into your dreams _(he doesn’t ask questions, either)_ , but simply because you don’t want to jeopardize your relationship. That’s all.

But you’ve already betrayed his trust, haven’t you?

Unwanted thoughts swarm your head and, with a groan, you rest it on the bar counter. The wood feels cold against your cheek. You could probably fall asleep here if you wanted to.

No such luck, though. A warm hand, too big to be Louis’, too calloused to be Io’s, is placed on your back, and you lazily open your eyes to look at the newcomer.

“Everything alright?” Yakumo asks, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Sure,” you wave him off, staring at the liquor that they keep behind the counter.

Beside you, Yakumo shakes his head. “Nah, I don’t believe you.” He plops down on a stool, resting his elbow on the wood and watching you with eyes like a hawk. “You seem restless and tired at the same time. How’s that?” Yakumo raises his eyebrow. You didn’t think he could do that.

Instead of answering right away, you sigh.

“Can’t sleep?” he digs deeper. Because of course Yakumo knows. As thick as he sometimes is, Yakumo always knows when something’s up. It’s like he can smell it.

You mumble something along the lines of, “I guess so.”

Laughing quietly, Yakumo shifts in his seat. “Want me to beat you up? That would definitely exhaust you. Maybe you’d be tired enough to sleep then?”

You scrunch up your nose, pressing your face harder against the counter. “I squabble with Lost every day, you really think I wanna get beaten up here too? Not that I think you could actually beat me.” There’s a tiny hint of condescension in your voice, which maybe wasn’t your best idea because it only edges Yakumo on. 

“Wanna bet?” Yakumo’s eyes glisten with mischief again. You can’t say you didn’t expect this outcome. 

But before you can respond, he’s already up, dragging you from your resting place and towards the training grounds. His skin is burning hot beneath your fingers, but maybe that’s only because you’re freezing cold. “Yakumo, I don’t-”

He shushes you, depositing you in front of the punching bag. “It’ll do both of us good, getting rid of some pent-up tension. Believe me, I’ve been through this before.”

You roll your eyes. “Of course you have.”

Yakumo ignores your jab and instead eyes you, arms akimbo, as if he’s afraid you might fall over at any given moment. He whistles softly after a few seconds. “Man, you look like shit.”

Snorting quietly, you turn around to leave. “Thanks.”

His hand is on your arm before you get too far. “Hey, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just saying you look tired, that’s all. So c’mon, we’re just gonna train a little bit ‘til we’re both tired and then you can sleep, alright?” His thumb strokes over your biceps in what you assume is supposed to be a reassuring gesture. “It’ll serve for a calm sleep, promise.”

You know Yakumo only means well. He always does.

“Fine,” you grumble out, wiping your hair out of your face. “Weapons or no?”

Training with weapons would make more sense, but Yakumo only shakes his head. “Just some good old pal-on-pal brawling, y’know?”

Before you can say anything else, he’s already tightened his grip on your arm and whirls you around, kicking your legs out from under you and forcing you to the ground. He swings his leg over you, pinning you down with his entire weight. It presses the air out of your lungs. “Huh, that was easier than expected,” he boasts with a prideful grin, shifting his weight a little so he can keep your hips down. His other arm pins down your wrist. “Don’t tell me that was all you got.”

You close your eyes for a second, grinding your teeth as you feel Yakumo’s weight on your back. He’s heavy. But maybe you can use that to your advantage.

Without him noticing, you tense up your body and – as he shifts again, probably to get a better grip – you lurch upwards, launching him from his perch on your back face-first into the hard floor.

You don’t have the time to celebrate your little win, however, because in the next moment both of you are already on your feet, circling each other.

Yakumo’s eyes narrow ever so slightly as he takes in your straight posture. “You might wanna crouch a little more,” he says as if you’re just having a casual conversation. “Makes it harder to tackle you to the ground.”

You roll your eyes but follow his advice nonetheless. Yakumo probably knows what he’s talking about. “This alright?” you ask, spreading your arms wide in the universal gesture of _bring it_.

Yakumo grins back at you. “Perfect,” he says, and in the blink of an eye he’s in front of you again, swinging at you with the finesse of someone who’s been trained for combat.

But you’ve also been trained for this, that much you know, so you duck low, reaching to wrap your arms around Yakumo’s waist and throw him, but he grabs your left forearm and folds it toward you as he moves his whole body into a shove that sends you skidding a foot backwards before your heels catch on the uneven floor. Unconsciously, you widen your stance.

Yakumo reaches with his other hand to pull you into a headlock, but you jerk back, twisting your body to break his hold. You’re lucky that you still have your agility, because if not… well. No point in thinking about that now.

Free for half a second, you dart past an open palm Yakumo sends towards your shoulder, probably to catch you off-guard, and hook your right foot around his knee, trying to get him to fall with the same dirty trick he’s pulled on you before.

But of course Yakumo remembers his own tricks, so he regains his balance in an instant, spins around and replants himself firmer than before.

There’s a second where there is cool air between the two of you, and you suck in a sharp breath before you clash again, your arms reaching low for a second attempt at a different throw and Yakumo locking his hands around your shoulders to counter. For a moment there is something of a deadlock, then you can feel your balance shift, feel it with every muscle and every bone, and you know that this is only the beginning of the end. Gritting your teeth, you turn in the vice of Yakumo’s arms, built solid from hours upon hours of relentless training, and now your back is pressed against his chest and one of his arms pins yours down as he sweeps your legs from under you once again. Always the same old trick. You really should have seen this coming.

You kick out but find no leverage on the tiled floor while Yakumo completes the hold, one of your arms locked painfully between where his left arm clamps yours and your right elbow to the side of your body. His right arm is banded awkwardly over your face, holding your right wrist in a chokehold modified so as to not actually strangle you. Not that it makes a difference; you’d just come back, wouldn’t you?

For a moment you struggle, seeking a weak point in the hold or leverage to tip Yakumo onto his back, but the leg he has wrapped around one of yours means that he’s holding most of your bodyweight off the ground.

There’s no point in trying to get rid of him, so you stop struggling. It pains you to give up, but you also know when to declare defeat. Wiggling your hands, you try to work out how to tap out if both of your hands are restrained and Yakumo is pressing down on your throat.

“Already giving up?” You hear Yakumo’s cheerful voice from behind you. He’s laughing quietly, completely out of breath and slightly muffled by how his face pressed into the back of your neck, but still preening in victory.

It occurs to you then that, actually, no, you aren’t ready to give up. Especially not when Yakumo is involved.

There isn’t any coherent thought beyond that when you open your mouth against where Yakumo’s arm is wrapped around your face and bite down on the muscle. Hard.

Yakumo had been starting to say something else but his voice cuts off mid-laugh with a wavering hitch and you feel a rush of satisfaction flowing through your veins, in the half beat between where Yakumo stops breathing and when he moans softly against your neck, his lips hot on the vulnerable skin there.

All the blood that had been rushing through your veins until now rushes to your face instead, and you clear your throat, try to ignore the way his arms tighten around you almost to the point of pain, and just how close you are pressed together. Something warm trickles down your chin but you pay it no mind.

A few seconds pass before Yakumo realises first what happened, then that he’s still holding you trapped flush against him while breathing hard against your neck. He drops the hold completely, stumbling back with his arms raised in the air.

You turn around slowly, ignoring how your face feels burning hot. “Oh my god,” you whisper, eyes bulging out of your head, “don’t tell me you-”

“Hey now,” Yakumo interrupts you with an awkward laugh. You’ve never seen Yakumo awkward until now. “No bad blood, right?” He sounds so earnestly nervous that you can’t help but feel somewhat sorry for him.

Taking a step closer, you place a hand on his arm. “Of course not,” you say quietly. “I wouldn’t judge you for that, Yakumo. Never.”

He smiles at you, although it does seem a little wobbly from close up, raising his hand and swiping his thumb over your chin. “Seems like you broke my skin, huh. Did you…?” He trails off but you don’t need to hear the rest of the sentence either way.

Sighing, you avert your eyes. “I guess so.” You had been preoccupied, but the feeling, the light twinge near your heart had been there, as if something had been tugging on your heartstrings. Not even in the metaphorical way either.

“Have you talked to Louis yet?” he asks, voice filled with concern and pity.

You push away, and for once, Yakumo lets you go. “No. And you won’t do that either.”

“Listen, I really think we should tell Louis about- about this. He’s worried, you know?”

Of course you know. How could you not know? You can see it in his eyes, the way he keeps wanting to check for any other anomalies. As if you’ll turn to dust in the blink of an eye; or worse. But you’re not fragile and this is your duty, one that you must see to until the end. “Can we talk about this tomorrow, Yakumo? I’m tired,” you deflect instead, running your fingers through your tousled, sweaty hair. “And no word to Louis until then or I’ll spill all your dirty little secrets.”

You’re lucky that he’s not above making fun of himself, because he laughs at your little joke, arms akimbo. “You wouldn’t,” he challenges you, and you can feel that it’s another invitation to fight.

“No, you’re right,” you say instead with a lopsided grin, leaning against the railing. “But still, isn’t it kind of awkward to like, you know… during an apocalypse when you’ve turned into a bloodsucker and all that?” you quip back, raising your eyebrow.

Yakumo only grabs your shoulders, turns you around and pushes you in the direction of your room. You’re sure he’s rolling his eyes behind you when he says, “Alright, no more questions for you today! Good night and sleep well!”

You laugh quietly and dutifully ignore the burning in your heart.

Louis doesn’t need to know about this.

* * *

You’d really expected Yakumo to be the one to tell Louis, but when you enter the common area the next morning, Yakumo is merely sitting at the bar, sending you meaningful looks. You ignore him in favour of sidling up next to Louis, following his gaze as he studies the map.

“So where are we off to next?” you ask, if only to break the silence.

Louis sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I’m not quite sure yet. I guess I will have to conduct some more tests. How are you feeling today, in any case?”

You shrug, avoiding his eyes. “I’m okay,” you say, because really, you are. Your heart still burns ever so slightly, as if someone had set fire to it and forgotten to put it out, but other than that, everything is normal.

He smiles at you, one corner of his mouth quirking up. “Glad to hear that.”

“How are you?” you ask back, because it’s the polite thing to do. And maybe because you’re also a little concerned for his well-being. He looks restless, a hint of dark circles underneath his eyes.

“I’m doing… adequate,” he answers after a few seconds of silence. “In consideration of our current predicament, I mean.”

You only nod and decide to leave it at that.

* * *

You’re pretty good at pretending that everything is alright, even if the world around you is falling apart.

Well, most of the time anyway.

It’s late at night once again _(because it always is; the night is never-ending)_ , sitting next to Mia in the hot springs. The air is warm here, humid, and feels heavy on your tongue, tasting like salt. You sigh, leaning back against the stone wall.

Next to you, Mia is quiet.

It doesn’t bother you; you actually enjoy the silence. You don’t know if that’s always been the case or not, but at this point too much time has passed for you to have any hope left or regaining your memories. Your only hope is Jack, the only one who knew you before. The one who didn’t hesitate to kill you. Maybe talking to him isn’t such a good idea, then.

What you don’t enjoy however is the reason for Mia’s silence.

It must be hard, to lose a sibling and all that. You wouldn’t know, of course, but you can imagine her pain. You’ve seen this kind of pain before, when Louis had discovered his sister beneath the Cathedral.

You stay silent for a few seconds longer before leaning forward, drawing your legs up to your chest and wrapping your arms around them. “I’m sorry,” you start, clearing your throat. The stars above you shine on mercilessly in all their icy cold glory.

Mia draws imaginary lines on the water with the tips of her fingers, watching as it ripples, steam rising into the dark sky. Despite the heat you can clearly see the goosebumps on her pale skin. “It’s not your fault,” she answers meekly. She sounds so young and yet so broken already.

You’re not used to this, this kind of proximity. Comforting people when they’re grieving.

Pressing your tongue against the roof of your mouth, you watch as she loosens her two ponytails, letting her long hair flow on top of the water. It spreads out around her like a golden halo. “No, it is. Perhaps we could have found another solution if we’d looked hard enough.”

Combing through her hair with her fingers, Mia sighs. “We can’t change the past, no matter how much we wish for it. Nikola would have wanted for us to keep going, no matter what happens.” At the mention of his name, her voice cracks, and she sucks in a sharp breath.

“He was a good kid,” you say, because that’s what people say in these situations, right?

You wouldn’t know. It’s been too long.

From the corners of your eyes, you see Mia’s shoulders shaking ever so slightly. “He was.” She stifles a sob, hiding her face in her arms.

You’re not sure what to do. This is not something you’re familiar with.

“Hey,” you say instead, barely audible above the sound of the water. “Hey.” You place your hand on her arm, and when she doesn’t do anything to push you away, you pull her closer, laying your palm flat on the small of her back to draw her into a hug. “Nothing that I could say would make this okay. Just know that we’re all here for you, alright?”

Mia’s face is pressed against your shoulder, her fingers digging into the skin of your arms as if she’s holding herself above the surface of the water that way. “I know,” she says, and you note the waver in her voice as her tears merge with the water of the hot spring. “I just miss him. So much.”

You rest your hand on her hair. It feels like pure silk beneath your fingertips. “I know,” you answer in lieu of expressing your pity. It’s not something you’d like to hear in this type of situation either, that much you’re sure of at least.

She rests her chin on your shoulder and her hair tickles where it’s pressed against your cheek, but you pay it no mind. Her body feels so small in your embrace, trembling like a leaf in the wind. She’s still so young.

Burying your face in her neck, you tighten your arms around her, hold her steady as her tears trickle down, as her hands aimlessly search for something, anything to hold on to. But there’s nothing. There never is.

You can hear her heartbeat thrumming beneath the paper-thin skin of her neck, and subconsciously – almost as if it’s an instinct – you ghost your lips over the sensitive flesh there. Her heartbeat quickens, her breath stutters. Not even revenants are immune to this, but that doesn’t mean you’re going to take advantage of her in her vulnerable state.

“I’ve heard about it,” she starts in that quiet voice of hers, her thumb tracing the muscles of your left arm. “That you’re special, I mean. That you don’t frenzy when drinking other revenants’ blood. That it makes you stronger instead.” She pulls away for a second to look at you. “Is that true?”

You avert your eyes when you nod.

She hums against your throat, and you can feel the reverberations echo through your body. “Would it help? If you absorbed my Blood Code, that is. Would we be able to help other people? So this doesn’t have to happen again?”

You don’t know. How could you? You know nothing of your past, how could you even begin to predict the future?

Shrugging as best as you can while Mia is still so, so unbearably close to you, you clear your throat. “Maybe,” you answer vaguely, listening to the blood rushing through her veins. It sounds like a soaring river.

She doesn’t ask if it’ll hurt. She only tilts her head to her side and offers you her neck, the most vulnerable spot _(besides the heart, of course)_ that a revenant can have. “Then I don’t mind.”

You hesitate only for a second; the blood lust is too strong, the proximity and heat are getting to your head. It’s as if you’re walking through thick fog, everything you see is obscured, your senses are dulled.

Your teeth pierce her skin, and that warm, slightly salty liquid coats your lips, tasting strangely sweet in the dark night. Mia sighs against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

It’s the same feeling over and over again, amplified by a tenfold each time, like waves crashing against the beach. 

Energy surging through your body, pooling somewhere around your heart, closing its sticky fingers around it and squeezing. It hurts, more than last time or the time before that. It genuinely hurts, but you don’t want to alarm Mia, so you quietly pull away, biting down on your tongue. Your blood mixes with hers, acid burns in the back of your throat.

Soft fingers wipe your hair out of your face, Mia’s concerned eyes are gazing into yours. “Is everything alright?” she asks, cupping your face in her hands.

You try your best at a smile, hoping that your teeth aren’t as covered in blood as they feel. “Of course,” you croak out, ignoring the way your heart beats against your ribcage as if it’s trying to escape. “Everything’s fine. I’m fine.”

Mia doesn’t look totally convinced, but she doesn’t broach the subject again, either.

Her blood mingles and mixes with the water, until only the slightest trace of it is left, a red swirl in the current.

Your heart pulsates with pain.

* * *

Louis is nursing a cup of coffee when you stumble into the common area the next morning, brooding over the papers stacked on his desk.

“Morning,” you grumble out, watching as he rubs his eyes and puts the papers away with a sigh. “How long have you been up already?” It can’t have been too long – Mia and you had been in the hot springs until the early hours of morning, sitting in silence. Louis hadn’t been there when you’d left.

“Just a few hours,” he dodges your question. He’s good at that, you note. His slender fingers wrap around the cup.

You nod, pouring yourself a cup and settling down on the chair next to him. You prefer the relative pain from a burning hot coffee over the pain in your heart any day. “I’m worried about Mia.”

Even though that is the truth, right now the admission is more of a deflection than anything else. Maybe, if you distract him long enough, it’ll be fine. Maybe he won’t notice anything. It’s a fool’s wish.

And it works. It works.

Louis sighs, staring at the mistle near the entrance for a few seconds. “Me too,” he admits finally, and you assume he’s thinking about his own sister. You almost wish you hadn’t said anything. Almost. He sobers up quickly, however, sending you a short-lived smile. “But we’ll fix this. Somehow.”

You don’t believe him. Not when he doesn’t even believe himself.

* * *

You’re crouching behind a formless rock somewhere in the provisional government outskirts, the overcast sky painting the environment shades of grey. Your heart is beating inside your chest like an animal trying to escape its cage, and you’re reminded of the first time you went here. When the Queen was still alive.

It’s the same old now; Jack by your side, the grotesque version of a malformed knight in front of you. The only difference is that its armour is white now. Not that that changes anything. Acid burns in the back of your throat at the sight.

You grasp your sword a little tighter, fingers curling around its hilt as you watch the miasma oozing from where the knight is standing. “Again?” you whisper incredulously, frowning slightly.

Next to you, Jack shrugs. “We’ve fought him once before, we can do it again.” The edge of his sword glistens in the dim light.

You don’t know what he’s thinking. If this situation seems as bizarre to him as it seems to you. If he feels regret for what he did or if he just… doesn’t care. You were one of many. A casualty. He probably doesn’t care. Would you have cared if it had been your responsibility?

“I guess,” you say, just to fill the silence with something substantial. “At least the Queen won’t show up this time,” you try to joke, but Jack doesn’t seem to think it’s very funny.

“Are you ready?” he asks instead, shifting his Executioner from one hand to the other.

Heaving a sigh, you nod. You don’t feel ready; maybe you never will. But that shouldn’t deter you from fulfilling your duty. From what little you could gather by watching your own memories play out in front of you, you’ve always been that way.

The arena isn’t large by any means, but you’ve encountered worse. The Greater Lost barely acknowledges your presence as you enter, but that’s fine with you.

It roars once as you start circling it, looking for a crack in its defence, watching Jack do the same from the corner of your eyes. The asphalt is uneven underneath your feet, broken up in places.

Then, without another preamble, the knight surges forward, swinging its gigantic sword in an arc of red blood and you have little more than the fraction of a second to dodge, rolling to the side to avoid getting hit. Even for a nearly immortal revenant, getting cleaved in half is never a nice feeling.

But it’s no use – instead of staggering after only hitting air, the knight simply changes the direction of its swing as if it’s nothing, targeting you again and bringing its sword down on you. As if on instinct, you raise your own sword, trying to block the incoming attack.

Metal screeches on metal and the foul stench of rot crawls through your mask and into your mouth, and you bite down on your tongue to supress a gasp as well as the urge to rip your mask down and get some fresh air. Every muscle in your arms screams at you in protest the longer you hold your stance, trembling with the effort of keeping that blood red sword as far away as possible. “Jack!” you hiss out between clenched teeth. He’s out of your vision, somewhere behind the knight where you can’t see him, so your only hope is that he’ll know what to do.

He's a seasoned veteran, however, and through whatever miracle he’s able to conjure, the knight stumbles for a second and the sheer power that had been pushing against your arms disappears. You quickly jump back, getting out of the knight’s reach as it targets Jack, who skilfully evades each and every attack. It only figures.

You breathe in deeply through your nose, cracking your fingers one by one.

You’ve done this before, you remember the pattern.

_“How many of them are there?!”_

In an instant, the knight focuses its attention on you once more, disappearing right in front your eyes only to reappear at your side, following its teleportation with a shield-spin. Rolling away, you drag your sword behind you, letting it noisily clatter against the asphalt ground. You’ve done this before, it’ll be fine. You’ll be fine.

_“At last, you can know peace…”_

You shake your head to get rid of past-Jack’s voice that really shouldn’t be as clear as it is, barely getting away from the knight’s next attack. Somewhere from behind the knight, Jack sends you an unreadable look.

It doesn’t matter, however – despite the fact that you should be outside of the knight’s reach by now, it still follows you, making the ground vibrate beneath its feet as it swings its sword again, dangerously close to your face.

The world goes dark around you as your body disperses, ashes in the wind.

You reform near the closest mistle a few minutes later; Jack is already there. He’s tapping on his arms, a little impatient, and you honestly can’t blame him.

You pull your best contrite face, pointedly averting your eyes.

Jack only sighs, waving his hand a little and starting to lead the way towards the arena. “Let’s not talk about it.”

“It was a misstep!” you argue, lightly tugging at your hair. “It can happen to anyone.”

“Seems more like you were distracted,” he counters, although there is a hint of gallows humour in his voice. “Just do better next time, kid.”

You know he’s not mad at you; he’s merely worried, like everyone else. You don’t offer anything else, focusing on facing the knight. Again.

_“Your resolve… was truly admirable.”_

Of course the voices are back again. Of course they are, _of course._ You grit your teeth together, tuning them out the best you can. But they’re still there, in the back of your head. Whispering. Taunting.

You last even shorter than before.

When you reform at the mistle shortly after, Jack is already there, arms crossed in front of his chest. He doesn’t look happy.

You barely spare him another look as you push past him and towards the knight. It’s personal now. You can hear the miasma sizzling and crackling from here.

It feels like it’s laughing at you when you enter the arena, and you close your eyes for a second to ignore the glaring headache that’s forming right behind your forehead. You’re better than this. You know you are.

Jack knows, too.

_"Sleep well, friend."_

It doesn’t matter.

The next time your body regenerates near the mistle, Jack immediately grabs your arm and draws you back before you can storm off again. Because that’s probably what you’d have done.

Is he mad? You really don’t know him well enough to recognize his tells. Maybe the woman he’d been with, Eva, could tell. But she’s not here anymore. Because of you. Again.

“Listen,” he starts, probably noticing the way you fidget and avoid his direct gaze. He knows. _He knows._ “Are you trying to get yourself killed? Because I know you can do better than that. What’s up with you today?” He frowns, leading you back to the mistle.

You sigh and plop down, immediately working on the buckles to remove your purifier mask. Fresh air seems like the best thing in the world right now. “I don’t know,” you mumble, looking anywhere but at him. “I’m just tired. That’s all.”

“No, that’s not it,” he disagrees immediately, as if he knows you better than you know yourself. Or maybe he does. Not like that’s a hard thing. He sits down beside you, removing his mask as well. “Just tell me the truth.”

Snorting, you roll your eyes. “The truth. Right.”

He makes it sound so easy.

Jack raises an eyebrow at you, leaning back. “We’ve got time, kid.”

No, you don’t. Why doesn’t anyone realize that?

“I just don’t know what to do,” you start hesitantly, drawing your legs up to your chest and resting your chin on your knees. The world is grey around you. “I can’t fight him. Not after what happened last time.”

Jack hums quietly, more to himself than to you. “You’re afraid it’ll end the same way.”

“Not afraid, no. I just can’t endure it a second time.”

“It won’t end like that again.”

“You can’t promise that.”

He’s silent after that, and when you’re not directly looking at him, it almost feels as if he isn’t even there. As if you’re out here all on your own. “I don’t want to die,” you say, and to your embarrassment, your voice cracks. “But neither do I want anyone else to die in my place.”

Jack isn’t like Louis. He doesn’t beat around the bush and he’s not soft-spoken, but maybe that’s just what you need right now. Someone who’ll tell you the truth, no matter how horrid it might be.

“Whatever happens, happens,” he starts again after a few seconds of silence. “And we can’t rule out that people – good people – will die. That’s the nature of living. We can only try to become stronger so that doesn’t happen.”

You snort again, quieter this time. You know what’s coming, and maybe, only maybe, you’re a teensy bit scared of it.

It’s doing something to you, the blood. And you’re not read to face the consequences yet. Not when Louis had told you there might be consequences and you’d waved him off.

“You know what I’m getting at,” Jack states in a brisk tone, taking off his Blood Veil and rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. His skin is pale white.

“I thought you’d be on Louis’ side,” you say, mainly because you don’t have anything else to say. “Fearing that I might frenzy and all that.”

He shakes his head, slipping a small knife out of his pocket and curling his fingers around the hilt. He doesn’t toy with it, doesn’t run his thumb over the edge to test how sharp it is or anything else. It’s just lying there. Motionless. “You’re more resilient than you think if you’ve gotten this far.”

Maybe he doesn’t know.

“Of course,” you sigh. You’re doing this for them as well as for everyone else. You’re no martyr or saint, but you’re not a bad person either. At least you hope that’s the case.

“It might help you,” he says before he drags the blade from his wrist to the middle of his forearm – a thin, red line of blood appears almost immediately. “You will need all the power you can get,” he says, holding out his arm to you.

You take it without another invitation, leaning closer. Jack smells like cigars and ash, but there’s also something sweeter, something like the scent of flowers that shouldn’t bloom here anymore. It’s so miniscule that you barely notice it, but it’s still there. Fading. His skin is surprisingly soft beneath your fingertips as you raise his arm to your mouth, planting your lips firmly on the cut.

You don’t play around like you did with Io or Mia – it simply doesn’t feel right with him. Jack wouldn’t appreciate it either, especially not from you. Not when you couldn’t save her.

His blood tastes salty on your tongue, and bitter. Harsh. It makes you want to gag with the way it coats the insides of your mouth, pungent and vile, but you push your reflexes down and focus on absorbing more of his power. The more you drink, the stronger you’ll get, right? That has to be it. It just has to be.

Your head feels as if it’s been stuffed with wool when Jack lightly pushes against your shoulder to ease you off. “That’s enough,” he says, watching as his skin knits itself back together in front of your eyes until only the dried blood is left.

It’s so bright around you. Brighter than it has any right to be.

You close your eyes for a second, ignore the searing pain in your heart that surges through it like consequent lightning strikes and focus only on your breathing. You can’t afford to panic now. Not when Jack _(or anyone else other than Io, really)_ is around, just waiting for you to slip up.

But it doesn’t stop. _It doesn’t stop._

Your heart only keeps on beating way too fast, way too hard, until it’s the only thing you can hear, and you can’t see, can’t breathe, can’t-

A warm hand is placed on your shoulder. “Kid!”

It’s soothing, in a strange way. It grounds you.

There’s a warm hand on your shoulder. Jack is not going to leave you here to die. He wouldn’t do that. Not again.

Slowly, as if the world might fall apart around you, you crack your eyes open.

Jack’s narrowed eyes are right in front of you, peering down at you with what one might call a worried expression. If Jack is capable of that. You don’t know, don’t know anything about him other than what little you could gather from your memories. “Are you alright?”

You nod weakly, already pushing yourself up with the help of your sword. Jack is faster than you, however, holding out a hand that you gratefully accept because your legs do feel a little wobbly at the moment. “Never been better.” Your voice is hoarse as if you hadn’t drunken in years.

Jack’s hand is at the small of your back, and you appreciate his concern, but now is not the time. “You think you’re up for it now?” he asks.

Steeling yourself, you push forwards. “Let’s give him hell.”

You’re grateful that Jack doesn’t ask any more questions after that, because you’re not sure you’d be able to explain anything.

* * *

You stumble through the door with blood in your hair and ash covering your clothes, and Louis is at your side in an instant, tugging at your clothes and smoothing out wrinkles. “What happened?” he asks in a hushed voice because it’s late at night and the others are probably sleeping. Jack has disappeared from your periphery some time ago, probably to soak in the hot springs. Which sounds like a fantastic idea right now.

Sighing, you gently shove Louis’ hands away and unbutton your Blood Veil, dropping it on a nearby chair. It’ll leave stains for sure, but that’s someone else’s problem. “Fought a knight. Won in the end.”

“A knight?” Louis frowns, and- right, he hadn’t been there the first time around. “And what do you mean, you won ‘in the end’? How many times did you disperse? I’ll go get a blood bead.”

Your fingers curl into his vest in an instant and you lightly tug him back, shaking your head. “I drank on the way here,” you lie, and it’s almost the truth. Almost. “And I didn’t disperse too often. I’ll be fine.” To convince him, you try your best at a smile.

Louis rubs the bridge of his nose, pushing his hair out of his face but not enough for you to see his other eye. “Alright,” he finally relents, clasping his fingers over your own. “Promise me not to do anything reckless?”

“Of course.” You’ve always been a proficient liar, it seems. It really comes to you with ease.

He wipes a droplet of dried blood off your face, his thumb resting on your cheekbone a little longer than necessary. You savour the touch, the warmth his fingertips send through your face, so much softer than the burning in your heart. “I will hold you to that.” Louis smiles at you before stepping back, letting you pass. “You should probably wash yourself and then go to bed.”

It’s the least you can do.

His eyes follow you even after you bid him goodnight.

* * *

Much to your surprise, Louis isn’t brooding over his plans or has his nose buried in one of his books today. Neither is he frequenting the hot springs or training with someone. He isn’t in his room and neither is he cooking in the somewhat small kitchen that you don’t actually need.

It takes you a few moments until you remember to check the balcony; the sun has already set, only a sliver of orange is left on the horizon. A million tiny stars, infinitesimal, are twinkling up in the sky.

Louis isn’t sitting on one of the wooden chairs or the table that you keep out there for that reason, but on the rocks that serve as a sort-of natural makeshift railing. He has one leg propped up, resting his arm on his knee, staring out at the horizon.

You sidle up next to him, carefully climbing on the rocks as well. They’re digging into your skin, but you’ve had worse happen to you.

“Hey,” you say softly, following Louis’ gaze. This late at night, the red mist is at its thinnest point, but you’re not worried about that. It’ll be fine. It has to be.

“Hey,” Louis greets back, “so this is it, right? We’re there.”

You know what he’s talking about. How could you not? Tomorrow is the big day. Showdown. Tomorrow you’ll confront Silva, whether you want to or not. “Are you worried?” you ask instead, tilting your head so you can look up at the star-filled sky.

Louis doesn’t answer, and you guess that’s an answer in itself. Not one you like, but there’s nothing you can do about it.

“I need to tell you something,” you say instead, when the silence gets too much. You owe him this much, at last. After all he’s done for you. “I’ve been collecting Blood Codes despite your orders. I’m sorry I lied to you.”

His lip quirks up slightly, and the skin around his eyes crinkles when he smiles at you. “I always figured.” He doesn’t sound too angry. More resigned than angry. “And you didn’t frenzy. Perhaps you’re stronger than any of us anticipated. The one revenant we’ve been waiting for.”

You hate that they’re basically deifying you; it doesn’t feel right, doesn’t feel as if you deserved it. But they won’t listen. You decide to change the topic instead. “Why were you so scared to give me your Blood Code, then?” Everyone else had given you theirs; through tears and pain, through laughter and shared moments of warmth that are so hard to come by nowadays. You had connected with everyone but Louis.

He breathes out through his nose. “I didn’t want to see you suffer like she did because of my own incompetence. I didn’t want to be responsible for another person’s death.” You know who he’s talking about, of course. And you guess you’d always known, at least unconsciously.

“It’s not your fault,” you say instead, bumping into his shoulder with your own. His skin feels warm through the thin fabric of your shirt, and he smells of old paper and fountain pen ink, as black as the night itself. 

Louis leans against you, his thigh touching yours. “Maybe. Maybe not.” His hair tickles against your cheek, but you don’t mind. He’s so warm.

“It’s really not,” you argue back because you really need him to understand. Whatever happens tomorrow, it won’t be his fault. It’s only yours. _Qué será_ , _será_ , as they say. “And I wouldn’t hold it against you, even if it was.”

You can hear his breath hitch in his throat when you lean closer, turning your face towards him. There’s a questioning look in his eyes before he closes them, leaning down ever so slightly. His breath grazes your skin, warm and sweet. One of his hands comes to rest on your waist, a reassuring weight in the night and the other one curls into the soft hair at the nape of your neck.

You inch closer, lips grazing the soft skin right next to his lips and he sighs, eyelids fluttering. His lashes are unbelievably black against his pearlescent skin. His heart is probably beating as fast as yours, and you feel them synchronize when you bury your hands in his hair and pull him closer, pressing your lips against his in one last act of defiance.

He immediately pushes back so he doesn’t topple over, peppering your bottom lip with small kisses before he lightly grazes it with his teeth. One of his hands wanders from your neck to your chin, tipping it down. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of your waist, holding on tight.

You swing your leg over him, straddling his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing against him as if you’re trying to become one. He slings his arm around your waist as if he shares your thoughts.

When he moans against your lips, something in your mind snaps and you bite down on his bottom lip that you’d been lightly sucking on until now, immediately tasting copper and iron. You jerk back but not fast enough. “Oh.”

You already feel the energy Louis’ Blood Code gives you surging through your veins, but you tune it out in favour of focusing on Louis’ confused face in front of you. “Did- did I hurt you?” you stutter out, ignoring the way your heart pounds in your chest. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I-”

“No, no, I’m fine,” he quickly tries to calm you down, raising his hands in a soothing gesture. “I was just a little surprised, that’s all.” He swipes his thumb over his lower lip, and you see that the wound has already closed. The motion is distracting, though, in a weird way. A good kind of weird, though. “See? I’m completely fine.”

Your hands are a little shaky when you reach out to him, but he simply grabs them out of the air, holding them tight between his own. “I thought I hurt you…”

He shakes his head vehemently. “You could never hurt me,” Louis says with a soft smile. “Come now, you’re probably tired. We should go sleep; we have a long day ahead of us.”

You’re not tired, you just feel electrified. And you know that Louis feels the same way.

You spend the night together, and sleep only comes to you in the early hours of morning, your head resting on Louis’ chest, listening to his calming heartbeat.

* * *

You had been wrong for all the wrong reasons.

There are no stars above you that night, nothing but the red shimmer of blood, the stench of iron and rotting flesh.

The pain in your heart swells to a never-ending crescendo, it reaches its peak and you know that whatever had been breeding in your body is now finally taking over, claiming its vessel. That you failed. Again.

But what hurts even more than your heart being on fire is knowing that you failed everyone, that you failed Louis. Louis, who’ll blame himself again. Because of you. That Louis is the one who has to put you out of your misery.

His warm breath is on the nape of your neck when you finally fold up like a marionette whose strings have been cut. It’s a grotesque mockery of last night, and you hate that it has to be him. You were doomed from the start.

You wish you could run your fingers through his soft hair one last time, tell him all will be fine.

It would be a lie, but you’ve always been proficient at lying.

**Author's Note:**

> just thought i'd sucker punch y'all in the guts one last time before finally disappearing for real! this wasnt meant to be this long but I'm not complaining man
> 
> also i love eva as much as i love louis and i couldnt decide so i killed eva off to make it easier for me  
> (and please tell me if i missed any tags or if the rating is accurate)


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